I take her hand.
No hesitation.
No apology.
“Come on.”
She doesn’t argue.
And that’s all the permission I need.
I lead her out of the room, down the hallway, not stopping until I find the executive restroom—private, quiet, away from everyone.
I push the door open, step inside, and pull her in with me.
The door shuts behind us with a soft click.
Silence.
Except for her breathing.
Except for mine.
I turn to her slowly.
Take her in again.
Every inch.
Every reaction.
“You want to tell me what that was?” I ask, voice low, controlled—but there’s something under it now.
Possession.
Expectation.
Need that I’m done pretending I don’t feel.
Because after that? I think I’ve made myself clear.
Now it’s her turn.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Hilary
My heart is racing a mile a minute.
Did he just?
Did David freaking Mars just claim me in front of one of his label executives?
And worse—did I just let him?
“You want to tell me what that was?” he asks, voice low, dangerous, as he drags me into what has to be the biggest damn bathroom I’ve ever seen in my life.
It’s all black marble veined with gold, mirrors everywhere, lights soft and expensive, like even the shadows cost money.